Those words stopped Rosanna short. Dropping her gaze, she clasped her hands and studied her intertwined fingers. “Thank you, Mr. Malcolm.”
The name slipped from her lips so readily that she didn’t realize what she’d said.
“Mr. Tate,” she corrected, her head snapping up.
The gentleman in question gave a vague but happy hum in response, and Rosanna’s eyes met his. Mr. Tate was fairly preening in place, his chest puffed out like a prideful peacock.
“It was merely a slip of the tongue, Mr. Tate. It doesn’t mean we are friends once more.”
He arched his brow, his expression pulling into that flirtatious pout that he’d employed far too often in the early days of their acquaintance. It was still far too pretty to be taken seriously, and Rosanna shook her head.
“You are incorrigible.”
“Admit it,” he said with another ridiculous attempt at being debonair. “You’ve missed our time together.”
Rosanna drew in a deep breath and shook her head. There may be a morsel of truth in it, but the man needed no encouragement; he was far too pleased with himself already. Yet the corners of her lips refused to cooperate, turning upwards despite all other protests. Her chest burned as she gazed into Mr. Tate’s eyes, his words and kindness flowing through her veins like molten metal.
“Come now,” he said with a waggle of his brows. “We both know this is merely part of the dance. How much longer must I posture before you forgive me?”
Jaw slackening, Rosanna stared at the man, though far more of her surprise was directed within.
Mr. Tate was nothing like Parker Humphreys. The two men couldn’t be more different. The former was broader with lighter coloring, and the latter was lanky and dark-haired. Mr. Tate was a jester, forever laughing at the world around him, and Parker was far more ponderous. The only quality they seemed to share was stunning blue eyes and a propensity to see good in Rosanna Leigh.
A few tender compliments was all it had taken for her to throw herself into loving Parker, despite knowing he was falling for her sister. And now, Mr. Tate’s belief in her had taken hold of her good sense and warmed her heart towards him, allowing her to forget that he was a self-absorbed fribble.
Good heavens. She hadn’t changed one bit.
Chapter 25
“Did you only invite me to talk to manipulate me?” asked Miss Leigh, her brows pulled tight together. “Sit and listen to my troubles for a few minutes in the hopes that it will make me throw aside my better judgment and forgive you?”
Malcolm jerked back. “Of course not.”
But the lady didn’t seem to hear him. “I know you are used to getting your way in things, sir, but just because you are kind to me for a few minutes doesn’t mean all is forgiven and we are bosom friends once more.”
“That is not what I am doing,” he said, holding his hands up. But his insides twisted, giving a telltale sign that all was not right. Malcolm swallowed, brushing the feeling aside.
Miss Leigh arched her brow, but he spoke over her before she could lay more accusations against him.
“That wasn’t my object in speaking to you, nor was it the driving force behind my words. I will admit I hope this interlude might soften your heart, but that is hardly manipulation, Miss Leigh.” Adopting his most winning smile, Malcolm added, “And as you haven’t run me through yet, I will take it as a victory.”
But his jest fell short of the mark. Miss Leigh stared at him for a long, silent moment and then turned on her heel and stalked away. He hurried to catch up to her, but before he could defend himself, she was speaking.
“This is not a jest, sir. I have been speaking of subjects that are dear to my heart, and you were simply using it as a way to ingratiate yourself. Then you made light of it when you saw your ploy wasn’t working.”
Malcolm stepped in front of her with his hands up in placation once more. “Please, Miss Leigh. I do apologize if your feelings were bruised by my levity.”
But rather than softening her, his words had Miss Leigh’s gaze hardening. “Must you continue to apologize without apologizing?”
He opened his mouth to retort, but she spoke over him.
“Do you realize you haven’t once actually said you were sorry for anything you’ve done? You’ve acknowledged I am upset but never your part in it, never showing true remorse for having been its author!”
Fire sparked in his chest, and Malcolm’s teeth ground together. He had already prostrated himself before her, and here she was declaring that it wasn’t enough. It was as though the lady made sport of making men grovel. He could fairly hear his father turning in his grave, and it was as though the man’s specter stood at his shoulder, begging him to reconsider his feelings for the lady.
Drawing in a deep breath, Malcolm forced that thought away, for it wouldn’t help his suit at present. If she needed the words, then so be it.
Scrubbing his expression and tone of all irritation, he bowed his head and said, “I hadn’t intended to offend you, and I apologize if you misunderstood and took offense—”
